


The Lumps and Bumps of Pregnancy

by Smushed



Series: Taking and Keeping John Watson [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Mycroft, Alpha!Sherlock, Angry Sex, BAMF!Sherlock, Brotherly Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Violence, Mpreg, Omega!John, Omegaverse, Possessive Sex, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, almost johncroft, almost myjohn, but not really, desperate!john, non-con, not quite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 14:09:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smushed/pseuds/Smushed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Sherlock didn't hate Mycroft before, he certainly hated him now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lumps and Bumps of Pregnancy

 

Pregnancy was a crazy rollercoaster of hormones, heats and horrible sicknesses. 

 

The actual heat after bonding with Sherlock was intense, it was a four day heat of them rolling and stewing in bed together, they tasted every inch of each other's skin, caressed and confessed all of their true feelings whilst locked in knots and messy kisses. Sherlock had counted that he knotted John eleven times during that time, and John had admitted that an Alpha was all he had ever wanted- that full feeling, being consumed by someone filling him, and his ear had been against Sherlock's chest when he came to terms with the fact that he probably loved him, to which Sherlock took him again, but only said 'I love you too' once his knot inflated, as though it were some sort of shield from John to see the blush at his cheeks and mouth agape with the truth and heaviness of this confession.

 

John was only five months gone, the bump he carried had already started to ache his feet, stretch his skin and lean against his bladder. His t-shirts scrunched and crumpled up his bump, the firm roundness always poking above his bottoms and under his shirts. He hated it, he was moody, impatient and the only thing that satiated him was Sherlock's scent. On the days that Sherlock pissed him off to the high heavens, the Alpha literally had to pin John to the couch and force his neck upon John's mouth and nose to calm him, and John would inhale like cigarette smoke the spicy and soothing taste and smell of his partner, and it would help him sink into the couch, it would always finish with John trying to mumble an apology and Sherlock to shush his 'sorry' with a tender kiss. Sherlock understood, he stayed up during the days John slept and studied pregnancies, it wasn't easy at first, he was inconsiderate and he already faced the fact that he was selfish. Things that John always did Sherlock had to learn and remember to take over, in the end, this was the perfect sort of shift in dynamics he needed to be a father. It was alright in the end, because the 'I love you' John would scream each time they shagged would keep him going for days on end, motivate him to keep happy for his lover. Protecting John and making sure he was happy was something he always did, there was no accommodation to this. 

 

It was notoriously difficult for Sherlock, to drop old habits. Leaving dishes, not doing any shopping and body parts in the fridge  _("For GOD'S SAKE, Sherlock! A BABY WOULD DIE EXPOSED TO THIS SORT OF BACTERIA-" To which Sherlock picked John up, wrapped him in his arms and held him in his lap on the couch, curling his Omega into his body and littering him with kisses.)_ What Sherlock couldn't face was letting John outside all too much. John turned out to be insatiable during his pregnancy, it was like his heats never stopped, if anything they became more frequent. It drove Sherlock mad with need, he noted his predatory behaviour, be became drunk from John's scent and would bed him immediately after being immersed in it. It prevented him from functioning, doing daily tasks, getting their shopping, cases were almost out of the question and their lives seemed to halt at this nine month period. When Sherlock found out John was carrying a healthy set of twins, he used his utmost restraint, the reservation he taught himself to deal with how society treated his brilliant mind. He became stronger, needed to be, for the pups.

 

On that morning, he had kissed John on the head, and made him breakfast (his attempts had become  _so_ much better, a tray with scrambled eggs, wholewheat toast and some orange juice and even a flower, compared to the before burnt toast and milky coffee from when John first became pregnant). He kissed John's rotund stomach, the firm flesh beneath his lips warmed his heart,  _their children._ He smiled, kissing John on the mouth, sniffing his head and leaving him. He could smell John's heat coming again, he had so much to do though. Checking the evidence of a case from last week and passing by a new crime scene, shopping for perishables, and more importantly, today Sherlock was to buy John a ring.

 

"Goodbye, John, I will be back later, I'll be as quickly as possible. If you need anything, text me." John just smiled, today was a content morning, they had an argument the day before on how he wanted to leave the house, where Sherlock cradled him and explained how dangerous it would be. 

 

So today, John went about the house, tidying and cleaning bits that Sherlock couldn't quite get the hang of. He didn't mind, he saw the wine left in the cupboard and promised himself, after all these months, when everything was done, he would have a nice glass of wine in the bath and soak his aching feet. He was still sore, and if anything just trying to distract himself from being on his own, and more annoyingly, the fact that he was desperate for sex. It started in the bedroom, the sheets were really soft and he realised a moment later he had been grinding on them, so he shifted to wash his breakfast dishes.  In the kitchen his clothes started to rub on his skin, scratching, so he stripped layer by layer, and when he was naked he noticed that his pants and trousers were soaking. He picked up his phone.

_You said text you if I need anything. I need you. JW_

Ok, then. He thought, walking to the bathroom, the view of these babies inside him made him preen, he held the small of his back admiring his bump before he felt the trickle. Ther it was. A roll of pure desire, he groaned aloud and shuffled to the bedroom, picked up a toy, and went to the shower. 

 

The hot water rolled down his skin, welcoming tickles as the water trickled down his limbs, over his belly, his erection twitching for attention but he savoured it for last, instead he penetrated himself with his favourite toy, it slid inside with the lubrication that had surrounded his arse. He moaned aloud, shuddering to his touch, it echoed into his ears, but home alone John Watson was shameless and soon this would be impossible with children in the house. He was vigorous, he pinned his face against the tiles as he fucked himself, the vibration going to his toes that were wriggling in the puddling warm water from the shower.

_Knock knock knock._

John cursed and hissed and swore, removing his toy and gently stepping out of the bath. He was angry now, (damn hormones), he agressively wrapped a towel around his hips (waist was out of the question, his bump far too demanding of his space) and dripping wet, mussed and angry he opened the door. Standing there was that familiar, tall, stiff and elegant demeanour that was Mycroft.

 

"John." He looked him up and down. "I am rather afraid I have interrupted- something." That small stall in his voice was very out of character, but John was too sexually frustrated to notice that, instead he grit his teeth and narrowed his eyes in response. 

 

"Oh really?" He left the door open and walked back to the living room. Upon Mycroft following him in and shutting the door behind him he raised his brows. He could hear the vibrator still buzzing in the bathroom and his lips twitched  _I need_  "What do you want?" he asked, but what he noticed now was Mycrofts shift in stance, he was less reserved and enclosed, he was now more, open, his chin normally pointed up so he could glance down at his nose at everyone but now he was looking down. John _could not_  realise what he was doing, how could any Omega understand just  _how_ much their scent affects those predators? Mycroft's eyes were glued to John's pants that lay still on the kitchen floor from where he stripped. He stalled then. 

 

"Alright, so if you didn't come for anything important, come back later when Sher-" 

 

"Oh, John." Mycroft restraightened, but started to stide towards him. "But it is important." John narrowed his eyes but shuffled back, clutching the towel where it lay on his hips so it wouldn't fall. "You see..." Mycroft licked his lips as he approached, a soft and dominant stride, an Alpha stalking its prey. "You are not being looked after," He shook his head. "My baby brother is doing a bad, bad job..." He stopped in front of John, who could no longer back away as his calves had his the couch and he refused to sit. He tried to rustle his feathers and be predatory back but of course that was almost impossible for the leaking of his arse.

 

"Mycroft. Stop being a prick, leave-" Mycroft had gently taken John, but with considerable pressure, by the shoulders and sat him down on the couch, and straddled John, careful of the bump, Mycroft placed his neck against John's face and held his blonde greying hair. "-Now." John finished, he was shaking like a leaf. "Oh my God, you smell like Sherlock..." It was so similar, a different tinge, is it because they are brothers? Mycroft was stroking John's head, and John's hands were frozen on the couch, he had accidentally let go of his towel and all he could think of was the scent. It was Sherlock's. Fuck. His arse tingled as a wave of arousal ran through him more intensely, preparing him for his Alpha, and involuntarily moaned. 

 

"It's ok, John. It is. I will take good care of you." He murmured, as he pulled away, his eyes flickered to both of John's who was becoming hazy with his need. John shut his eyes as Mycroft's lips met his neck and that was when it hit him, with some incredible force, he managed to push Mycroft away from him and he leapt off the couch, towel completely disregarded as he ran to the bathroom. Panting he found the toy and stuffed it up himself, whining at the penetration, but as he turned to shut and lock the door it was too late, Mycroft stood in the doorframe.  _Take me, I wish you were Sherlock, just fuck me._ John's instincts were wired out of control, he just needed something. "Sherlock!" John shouted, aimlessly, he shuffled back on the cold tiling. John's shoulders met the warm radiator and as the toy nearly slipped out of him he pushed it back in, lubrication seeping to the floor. "Sherlock, Sherlock, I need..." He panted, looking at the wall instead of Mycroft before closing his eyes. Mycroft kneeled then in front of John, and took him by the chin gently.

 

"It's ok, John, I will take you, knot you, just for now, just until Sherlock gets back..." He comforted, John had tears in the corners of his eyes, he wanted it so badly, his favourite toy could only do so much but it was no competition for an aroused Alpha. He needed. 

 

"I need, I need, so badly, it hurts, I need..." John murmured, Mycroft took the vibrator and pressed it deeper inside John who mewled, clawing at the floor, he moved it back and John's eyes looked panicked as though he were going to take it away, but then he shoved it in again even deeper than before. John almost cried in pleasure, saliva gently dripping from his mouth. "I need... I need..." He whimpered. "I know..." Mycroft replied. "Sherlock..." John almost whispered, and he felt the toy being pulled out of him. He cried, begged incoherent words of pleading but as he opened his eyes he saw Mycroft was on the floor, the toy had slipped out of him just before Sherlock had punched his brother across the head. John shuffled back farther, watching, Mycroft scrambled to his feet with grace and ease as Sherlock looked almost feral, he swiped again for his brother, who managed to counter it by punching Sherlock in the stomach. Sherlock took Mycroft by his collar and yanked him into the corridor, where John witnessed his partner shoving him to the ground and kicking him hard. 

 

Mycroft yelled as Sherlock snarled, the two scrapping in the corridor but it was no question who was winning. "You  _dare_ touch John!" Sherlock roared. "I am going to KILL you!" His eyes were wide, and Mycroft realised that Sherlock was not joking as he wiped the blood from his numb face. The elder brother took heed in Sherlock's warning and dashed away when he could manage, which was difficult between the kicks and punches of his surprisingly strong younger brother. The door slammed, then the front door, and Sherlock ran to John, who had already started to penetrate himself with the toy, it wasn't enough though. John was tearing up with frustration. "It's not enough, it's not, fuck, Sherlock, please." He yelped, the toy vibrating uselessly away inside of him. Without needing to ask twice, Sherlock approached, unbuttoning and taking out his cock, pulling his clothes just past his groin. His naked lover was scooped in his arms and Sherlock took them both into the shower, turning on the spray that drenched his clothes in seconds, and John hummed and moaned against the warm water.

 

Sherlock then pressed him against the tiles, and held the man's thighs around his hips, lining up his aching and stiff erection to his arse. "Please, I need you please, Sherlock, oh God, ah-" Sherlock pressed in, and the echo of an almost scream of desperation echoed through. Sherlock was so deep, he pressed his body harder into John's. "Mine." He growled, and John nodded as Sherlock smothered his neck with his tongue and lips, sucking and nipping and marking his mate. "Mine," 

 

"All yours," John panted, as he was fucked harder, his eyes were shut as he felt blessed with such a perfect Alpha, filling him more than he can imagine. Each time they have sex he forgets just how deep Sherlock can reach, just how far he can be filled, and each time almost swears he gets bigger. The slapping of skin, the sound of stifled water between their shifting flesh was decorating their moans and pants. Sherlock was angry, and John realised now that he liked it, he was vigorous, firm and very determined. John was being shagged up the wall to the point where Sherlock was blinded by it, John rewarded his Alpha with moans right down his ear but when he whined or whimpered at the cuff of Sherlock's ear it made the detective faster and harder, so John clung for his life with his legs as he felt the intensity of their sex take over. His hands knotted in Sherlock's sopping hair, and just before John begged again Sherlock's hand had already wrapped itself with ease around John's cock, he fisted it once, pumped John three times and John was a screaming mess in Sherlock's arms, legs tightening around his lover. "Knot me, knot me, please, I need you, please Sherlock, oh  _God."_ Sherlock came then, his knot inflating, John howled with pain for a breif moment, having been sure that it was a first it ever got that big, and they collapsed in the shower, kissing, wet slick lips smoothing across flesh. They panted until they caught their breath, locked under the gentle warm droplets. 

 

"I'm sorry..." They both murmured at the same time. "For what- how, I don't know..." John shook his head into the crook of Sherlock's neck. "I don't know how that happened, how I would have stopped it, _if_ I could have-" he was shushed by Sherlock's mouth. 

 

"No John, it's my fault for not being here when I could smell your little heat coming this morning. I got your text, it's a good thing I rushed..." (From the Jewellers, he omitted) "I knew I should not have left you today, waited..." He hummed, remembering the ring he had in his coat pocket that he was glad he discarded on the couch before tumbling into his fight. 

 

They kissed. It was soft and lazy, mouthing 'I love you's into each other's lips, before John startled, one of the babies kicked, or was it both? Sherlock gasped and chuckled as he felt them against his belly as he hugged John against him.

 

"I don't think they like us having sex." Sherlock smiled, a small but cheeky smile.


End file.
